


Tapping Out

by endlessnightlock (Endlessnightlock)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Daddy Peeta, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Tenderness, a little Gale bashing, alcohol consumption, it's all in good fun no Gale's were harmed in the making of this fic, mommy katniss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endlessnightlock/pseuds/endlessnightlock
Summary: It's been... a long time since anything other than sleep has gone on in the Everdeen-Mellark household after a nasty bout with the flu puts Katniss, Peeta, and their kids out of commission.Tonights the night that's all about to change, isn't it?
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

I shift gingerly on the bed, straightening the slinky nightgown I decided on after some panicky; I can’t believe this is finally happening deliberation. I’m still contemplating whether or not just to pull it off and wait naked under the covers for Peeta to come back. It’s been so long since we’ve done anything at night other than sleep, I felt hesitant and awkward, and that's why I settled on this black nightgown, hoping to pique Peeta’s interest. Not that I have plans to wear it very long. 

It’s just, yeah. Sex; it’s been a while.

But, tonight’s the night, I’m sure of it. 

I’m the one waiting for Peeta right now because it’s his turn to tuck the kids in, and for the first time in a week, I’m reasonably sure he might get the job done on the first go-round. All I can say is it’s about time.

The flu kicked down the front door down of our house and spent the last eighteen days (yes, I’ve been counting) squatting in our respective digestive tracts and sinuses, wreaking havoc on every member of our family. It hit hard and fast, the first wave leaving both of us and the kids like strung-out partiers at a frat-house rager. The similarities seemed endless: projectile vomiting, stained clothes, staggering around incoherently, zero sleep- I swear, I think the plague would have treated us better. 

Once the worst of the flu passed a week ago, sleep started happening regularly again; at that point, I think we were all too exhausted not to. What made things difficult was the kid’s sleep schedules became completely screwed by our household bout of sickness. Consequently, Alice and Miles would only go to bed at night if one of us would stay with them, just like the three- and six-year-old tyrants they are (I’m kidding, sort of). That left Peeta or I falling asleep in one kid’s bed or the other and staying there all night, too exhausted to get up again.

I’m not complaining about having to lay down with the kids, of course not. I love my son and daughter and would do anything for them. 

But here’s the thing- Mom is freaking tired of sleeping on a cramped bed, without my husband. 

Things have been crazy around the Mellark-Everdeen house lately. We’ve been out of the typical routine for almost a month, and I’m ready to get things back on track. There’s one thing I’m missing a lot more than might be expected from your local soccer mom, or whatever in the hell label it is people stick on me as I scowl at them from my car in the elementary school parking lot. I hope they think I’m the slightly scary soccer mom, at least.

To put things bluntly- sex. I miss sex. I need to get laid. Name it, and I need it: kissing, touching, fingering, oral, fucking- any and all of it. I’m desperate.

Specifically, the one thing I can’t stop thinking about is getting licked out until I scream so loud the bedroom windows rattle from the force. 

I need orgasms- lots and lots of them.

The thing is, I need sex so badly I could cry. 

I know Peeta feels the same way; while I’ve been irritated and snappish with everyone the last week, he’s got this whole atypically silent, grumpy/horny vibe he’s rocking. He’ll stare at me across the table or the room and then look away quickly, avoiding my eyes like he has to remind himself to calm down, and it has done nothing to cool my libido. 

I’ve had enough dirty thoughts about my husband over the last few days to send a nun into cardiac arrest.

Speak of the devil; at last, the bedroom door opens, and Peeta appears in the doorway like a harbinger of sexuality, alone (thank you, thank you, thank you). He shuts the door behind him as I sit up on the bed. “Kids finally asleep?” I ask, hoping it sounds casual and not at all like I’m thinking about ripping his pants off and swallowing his cock whole. He’s not the only one who likes to give oral.

“Yeah,” Peeta says, his voice quiet. His eyes say something else entirely- I notice the way his eyes linger on my bare legs and low neckline.

“Well, come here then,” I tell him, crooking my finger. Right now is no time for subtlety. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Peeta strides my way, more hesitantly than I’d like. I’m wondering why- I haven't been misreading him, have I?- until he opens his mouth. “We need to be quiet, though; Miles just went down, and he still isn’t sleeping the best-”

Ah- he’s worried about the kids waking up. Peeta is paranoid about one of the kids walking in on us in the middle of sex. It’s nothing I want to happen either, but I don’t stress about it as he does. We keep saying we’re going to put a lock on our bedroom door but have never actually gotten around to it yet. Neither kid has come in and interrupted us or said anything about weird noises coming from our room in the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop Peeta from worrying that it could happen.

“Okay,” I promise softly, wrapping my arms around his waist, “we’ll be quiet.” 

I urge Peeta closer, my pulse quickening already as my hands slip inside his flannel sleep pants and head right for that delicious ass his momma blessed him with. 

I’m so worked up right now my panties would be soaked if I were wearing any- which I’m not. But that’s for me to know and Peeta to find out. 

Slickness is already on the verge of leaking out of me and running down my inner thighs; I’m so ready for him. My apparent desire would be embarrassing if I weren’t sure Peeta felt the same desperation.

He swallows roughly, his eyes traveling down my body the way I’ve caught him doing many times over the last few days, but this time he doesn’t look away. I give his ass a gentle squeeze. We’re both hesitant for maybe a second, eyeing each other hungrily before lunging forward at the same time and kissing the hell out of each other. 

_ Oh, thank you, finally-  _ I could cry; I’m so relieved, clinging to Peeta as we kiss frantically, lips and tongues sliding and sucking, bodies already rubbing against each other like cats in heat. 

I get my hands around the waistband of his pants and push them down his trim hips, breaking away from his mouth long enough to watch him pop out; I swear my walls clench just from looking at his cock. Quickly, I shove his t-shirt up and over his shoulders, and while he’s busy pulling it over his head, I run my hands over his firm abdomen and muscular arms before grabbing his shoulders and pulling him towards me.

Peeta grunts at my aggressiveness, grasping a handful of my nightgown at the bottom before I can lay back on the bed. It’s his turn to look admiringly at me as he yanks my nightgown over my head and drops it on the floor. His jaw drops- I knew I’d get a good reaction out of going sans panties.

“No underwear? For crying out loud-  _ fuck _ ,” he swears, climbing on the bed and urging me onto the mattress beneath him in an animalistic way. Peeta reaches for my breasts, caressing me a little roughly, but I’m not complaining because damn, it feels good. 

I wrap my hand around his cock, squeezing him at the base before dragging my hand up the length of him, feeling him harden more beneath my fingers and palm. My hips jerk up in anticipation while his buck outward, both of us searching for a connection as I stroke his hard length. There isn’t going to be much foreplay tonight.

In the back of my mind, I know I’m probably behaving a little crazy and over-eager, but so is Peeta. His kisses are already growing open-mouthed and sloppy as I drop my hand from him. He climbs between my legs and sinks his hips between my spread thighs, rubbing his cock through my soaked folds without hesitation, drawn there like a magnet. Just that stimulation makes stars flash behind my eyes every time he bumps my clit with his cock. A loud groan escapes me, and then I yelp as electric jolts through my veins, my eyes rolling back in my head.

“Shh,” Peeta mumbles against my mouth, “you’ve got to be quiet. The kids-“

“Don’t shush me,” I grumble, pushing my pelvis up into him and rubbing against him until he lets out a tortured groan as well. 

I need to be quieter; I know I do, but can’t seem to stop the noises from escaping. It’s been two and a half fucking weeks since we’ve, well, fucked, for lack of a more romantic word- and by the way, I’m not feeling even slightly romantic; I’m  _ horny _ . 

Romance will come later- the sweet revelry that happens once we’ve been able to be together again like this, but tonight? Tonight it’s just about lust.

Peeta surprises me then, rolling us over until he’s lying flat on his back, leaving me stretched out across his body. He sets his hands on my hips as I hover over him, urging me to sit up until I’m on my knees beside him on the mattress. 

Oh-  _ this _ , I realize what he wants to do. 

I love this.

“Turn around,” he begs, hand still on my thighs, his fingers spread around the bottom curve of my ass. He’s so close to my center that I’m sure he can feel the wetness and heat coming off of me. 

I can’t help it- I whimper at his eagerness. It’s what I’ve been fantasizing about the most- Peeta’s mouth on my pussy, but it’s even better with the bonus of his cock in my mouth at the same time. 

Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy actual sex just as much as the next woman. There are lots of times I feel like banging it out hard and fast like a couple of rabbits; it’s just that Peeta has a very talented mouth, and I’ve missed it a lot. 

And the sex that comes after he goes down on me for a long time? It’s so much better after I’ve come three or four times around his mouth and fingers. 

Tonight it’s been so long since I’ve had a good orgasm, I know he’ll leave me with blown-out nerves, trembling legs, and soaked sheets beneath us. And then he’ll take his time fucking me; with the way my walls will already be swollen tight from my other orgasms, it’ll be incredible. I always seem to orgasm again, hard, my walls and clit so oversensitive at that point it borders on discomfort. But it feels so good. It’s fucking amazing what Peeta can do- I can’t get enough of him.

Eager, I rest on my knees near his shoulders and then ease one leg over his head while I hold myself up by my arms, my face pointing toward the footboard, mouth hovering over his cock. Meanwhile, his hands wrap around my outer thighs, lowering my center over his mouth. 

I prop myself up with one arm for balance, resting my breasts against his stomach as Peeta’s tongue runs a path through my folds with a happy sigh. His moans vibrate against my sensitive flesh, and I grasp the base of his cock, pulling it upright just the way he likes it, pumping him as he licks me enthusiastically. I tug on his cock, swirling my tongue over his head, mirroring what he’s doing between my thighs.

My eyes slip closed, moaning around him as I take him deeper. The dual penetration of his tongue in my pussy and cock in my mouth is fantastic. Every nerve between my legs tingles. 

I relax my throat, allowing my lips to slide down his shaft until I’m closing them around the base of his cock and sucking. Peeta isn’t small, so fitting all of him in my mouth isn’t something I can typically manage, at least not while facing him head-on the way I typically would while going down on him.

Soon, something hot and profound clenches low in my belly. Peeta groans, urging my legs farther apart, using his hands on my hips to move my center further back on his face so he can run his tongue over and around my clit before sucking on it. Every nerve in my body tightens and tenses. “Oh god,” I whisper-groan around his cock, “god, god,  _ god _ .”

Peeta grunts as he moves his tongue, plunging it inside me again and tonguing me frantically. That, combined with the sensation of his cock down my throat and his chin rubbing against my clit as I shamelessly grind down on his face, does it. I gasp when the pleasure explodes, crying out around his cock. Salvia pools inside my mouth, running out of my slack lips and down his shaft. 

I want to sob in relief; I never want him to stop- what he's doing feels so good I think I could come all night.

Peeta licks and sucks me through the orgasm, and then another that follows closely on the first one’s heels. I let his cock slide out of my mouth that time, so I can breathe, shuddering and shaking until my body relaxes enough that my thighs unclench from around his ears.

He rests his hands on my thighs then, urging me to roll off of him. I comply, lying on my back when I’m on the bed again because I can barely manage anything else. I'm keyed up, though; it's like I’ve been served the appetizer course at a banquet- slightly satisfied with the edge off my appetite, but still anxious for the rest of the meal.

At this point, Peeta will usually spread my legs apart, lay down on his stomach, and dive back into me enthusiastically, teasing my clit and fucking me with his tongue, eating me out until I came again. And again. And again. Until, finally, he adds several fingers and drives them inside as he works me over to what I think of as an almost out-of-body experience. What I mentally refer to as the grand finale of orgasms, the one where my whole body seizes up and arches off the bed, every muscle poised, hanging by a thread until I break. 

But tonight, he doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, Peeta kneels between my thighs and urges me to lift my hips in the air. I wrap my legs around his waist because I like this part too- this is good; it’s just not what I was fantasizing about him doing to me. 

And then his cock is inside me, pumping without hesitation, hard and fast. It feels good as he moves in and out, but I’m so wet I’m getting hardly any friction. It’s all going so quickly, and I’m not getting enough stimulation. I’m just moving my hand, ready to slide my fingers down my body and touch myself, something I don’t typically have to think about doing with Peeta. But then it’s too late; his back tenses, and his whole body jerks. He groans loudly, slowing down the rhythm of his hips as he comes inside of me.

”Oh god,” Peeta mutters after, dropping down to lie on top of me as he catches his breath. ”That was amazing, Katniss. I love you.”

”Love you too, ” I whisper in response, because it's the truth and because the way I love him has nothing to do with my impression that I’ve been short-changed by what we just did. 

I’m a pouty bitch, honestly. I've got a great sex life with the only guy I’ve ever loved, and it’s been a long time since Peeta’s had a release of his own- he has needs too, and we’re not twenty anymore; it’s not like he can immediately get it up again. 

Still, I can’t help being disappointed- Peeta’s usually better at reading me than that.

He climbs out of bed and goes to the bathroom while I lie still a few minutes longer, listening to the sounds of him flushing the toilet and running the faucet before I get up myself, wondering what happened to my big plans for the night.

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  



	2. Chapter 2

”Oh, that looks good. I need one of those,” Johanna says, arriving in a flurry of chaos, as usual, dragging her jacket and bag on the floor behind her. She slides into our corner booth, nodding at the frozen margarita Madge is most of the way through because Johanna is always at least half an hour later than when she says she’ll be meeting us at _Saes_. ”Why aren’t you having one, Kitty-Cat?”

I shrug. The truth is, I’m not really in the mood for our monthly girls’ night meet-up for once. We always stay out too late for a weeknight, and I drink too much, and then Peeta has to pack up the kids and drive over here to pick me up. It’s almost a given I’m going to get a text from him any minute, asking when he needs to be here. I could get an Uber, I suppose, but I don’t want to do that either. And then, of course, there’s the headache I’ll have tomorrow if I overdo it.

I’m just not feeling it tonight. Maybe it’s some leftover blahness from the flu, perhaps it’s guilt for leaving Peeta home with the kids (although he insisted he didn’t mind), maybe it’s leftover anxiety I still had from the sex last night. My money is on the third option- I’m starting to wonder if I’m some kind of deviant or if Peeta just isn’t into me that much anymore.

Mostly, I think I should have just stayed home.

Johanna’s eyes lock on me as Darius, _Sae’s_ bartender, heads our way since she managed to flag him down. They must have sent a few people home- it’s slow for a Thursday night, but it’s February in the midwest, so it’s completely understandable. 

Another reason I didn’t feel much like coming out- it’s hard to leave your warm house on a cold night, even if it is to meet up with your friends. 

“Come on- you look too sad to be sober,” Johanna says, “I'll buy- my treat.”

“Jo-” 

“Come on, Katniss, I’ll make sure you don’t overdo it,” Madge chimes in. The tequila must be hitting her just right because she's extra perky at the moment. Whether that remains the case is the question- Madge can be kind of a temperamental drunk and isn’t the best at keeping others from over-indulging, either. “It’s a girl’s night! Don’t make us drink alone.”

I sigh, but when Darius asks what I’d like, a grin turning up the corners of his freckled, bearded face, I find myself giving in. 

Maybe I need to loosen up a little and have some fun. Things have been stressful at home, and I’m probably just overthinking things with Peeta. “Fine, I’ll have one drink,” I say, holding a single finger up for emphasis as I give in to the urging of my friends, “and that’s it.”

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  


One margarita on the rocks and one very potent Long Island Iced Tea later, I’m fooling around with my straw and blabbing to Madge and Johanna about everything that happened between Peeta and me last night, the high points and the low points both. Johanna is particularly interested in my description of our positioning, leading me to the uncomfortable realization that she's trying to visualize us doing it. 

“It’d just been so long, you know? It was good and all,” I say, figuring I’d better wrap things up once I notice her eyes glazing over, ”he just tapped out early.”

Johanna shakes her head like she’s drawing herself out of her thoughts. 

“And it’s not like I didn’t understand him finishing that soon- it’d been a long time,” I continue, figuring if I’m in for a penny, I’m in for a pound. “I just wanted more... was that selfish?”

“No,” Johanna laughs, “but it does make you a dirty little-” 

“Let me get this straight,” Madge butts in, incredulous-sounding. 

I think I’ve surprised them both with my alcohol-induced bluntness, especially Madge. Sex isn’t something the three of us discuss very often. 

Well, Johanna talks about her sex life all the time, but she’s single and usually has exciting stories to tell. My thing feels kind of vanilla, by comparison.

“Madge-” I laugh.

“No- don’t interrupt,” she says, kind of vehemently, “you’re the one who brought this up, remember? You’re complaining because, during filthy sex with your ridiculously attractive husband, you only had _two_ orgasms?”

Johanna cackles from her seat next to me in the booth, holding her hand up for me to high-five, which I grudgingly do. I know I’m going to regret telling them all of this later, but at the moment, I can’t find it in me to care. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Katniss. I always pegged you as the missionary for procreation only type,” she says.

I pick up my glass again and scowl at Johanna over the rim, taking a drink of the melted-down ice and alcohol mixture at the bottom, which is a no-brainer; it’s second drink, duh. “I’ve been with Peeta for fifteen years-”

“Wait a second- you guys have been together longer than that. It’s more like what,” I watch Madge do the math in her head, deciding that her designated post tonight is questioning every word that comes out of my mouth. “Didn’t you start dating Peeta senior year of high school?”

“Yeah, you’re right! How could I forget about three years?” I say, laughing, knowing full well why I forgot- alcohol. 

They mix their drinks pretty strong at Sae’s- it helps make up for the shitty atmosphere in here.  
  
“I sure wouldn’t forget any of it if I were having sex like that,” Madge grumbles under her breath, her gaze fixed blankly across the bar, “lucky bitch.”

I frown at her tone before turning my focus back to Johanna, who shrugs. 

“O-kay,” she mouths out of Madge’s line of sight.

What can I say- we tried to warn Madge about the jerk she married before she went through with it. 

“Anyway,” I try to rein in the conversation, “you’ve got to be willing to get a little creative sometimes; it helps keep the spark alive.”

“I’d say the spark is just fine if you’re complaining about only having two orgasms,” Madge interrupts before Johanna gets to answer me. 

I turn my head and stare at her again. Honestly, I feel like ideas are brewing inside her head that might not end well. Or maybe it’ll end great if she goes home and puts her foot down. All I’d have to say to that is “good for her.”

“I can’t tell you the last time I’ve come more than once,” Madge goes on. “Gale never wants to go down on me. He says he doesn’t like it,” she frowns into her drink glass. “Sure wants me to do it for him, though,” she mutters before finishing it off. “How is that fair?”

Johanna and I exchange looks. What kind of guy doesn’t give his partner oral? I mean, I assume not everyone is as enthusiastic about it as Peeta usually is, but still. I should probably just be grateful I’m not the only one over-sharing.

“Who wants one more?” Johanna asks, waving Darius down again.

“Me! Over here,” Madge says, swinging her hand in the air. 

I kind of wish she would stop drinking- her moping makes me feel bad for complaining about Peeta. I definitely should have kept my mouth shut because even if he is getting tired of my demands in bed, at least he’s not a selfish asshole like Gale.

“I’m going to pass,” I say, pushing my glass away. “I’m good.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


An hour or so later, my phone vibrates with a text. I quickly pull it out of my pocket to check. The sender is no surprise- I actually expected to hear from Peeta before now.

**P: Just checking in on you- having fun? :)**

I peek over at Johanna and Madge- who finally perked up after we dropped the topic of sex. The two of them are in some deep, animated conversation about a dating show they both like that I know nothing about.

**K: Yep, but nothing too exciting. How are the kids?**

**P: Miles is getting a little cranky- tired, I think. Do you need me to get you? Figured I’d check-in before the little guy falls asleep on me.**

I smile down at the phone. Miles is an absolute monster if he dozes off and then wakes up again. And while the break with Madge and Johanna was nice, I’m ready to leave. 

I type out a quick response:

**K: You can come now- I think we’re done.**

**P: Be there in a few.**

**K: See you then, <3.**

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Alice slides out of the car once I unbuckle her belt, and Peeta scoops Miles out of his seat, hoisting him over one shoulder to carry him inside the house. Our son’s sweaty blond curls have plastered themselves against his chubby face, his lips pursed. His breath curls up in little wisps of steam before he buries his nose in Peeta’s shoulder as we all head towards the front door; Miles fell asleep in the car on the way home, but fortunately, he still seems pretty out of it, so he’ll probably stay asleep once we put him down in his bed. Thankfully, Peeta got both of the kids into their pajamas before they came to pick me up, just to make for an easy bedtime transition for everyone. 

While he’s putting Miles down in his room, I get Alice settled into her bed. She’s already drowsy like her brother, with wispy black hairs springing out all over her forehead like a halo and lids barely staying open over blue eyes that are just like her dad’s. I kiss Alice goodnight and tell her I love her, and for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t protest when I turn out the light and shut the door behind me, listening for the way the hinge clicks closed.

Peeta’s already changed his clothes, and he’s in bed when I get to our room- reading a book, propped up against the headboard with his reading glasses on. “Everything go alright with Alice?” he asks, setting his book aside as I shut the door behind me.

“Yeah. Think this means that things are getting back to normal?” I ask as I head towards the dresser to pull out my pajamas. Tonight it’s going to be all about comfort, no sexy nightgowns anywhere in sight.

“I think maybe,” he says, taking off his glasses and setting them down on the bedside table, “it’s about time.”

Last night after Peeta fell asleep, I spent hours lying in bed next to him, too frustrated and overstimulated to relax. At one point, I thought about getting in the shower and just taking care of things with my vibrator, but ultimately that didn’t seem worth it. And I didn’t want to take the chance of waking him up. So you’d think that I’d be ready to leap on him tonight, but surprisingly that’s not the case- it’s like the day took the edge off my frustration, and the only thing I’m thinking about is snuggling up in bed with him. 

Not that I would turn down sex, it just doesn’t seem important right now.

I can feel Peeta’s eyes on me as I pull my sweater over my head and push my leggings down and off my legs. I fold them a little and set them on the dresser before unsnapping my bra, tossing it unceremoniously next to my clothes before bending over to root through the bottom drawer.

My eyes are focused on my line-up of sweats, trying to decide between the thinner or thicker ones, when Peeta clears his throat. I look in the mirror at his reflection, and I’d have to be blind not to see the way his gaze is focused wholly on me. “You could leave everything in the drawer,” he says, pulling the covers away from his lap, “and come here instead.”

_Oh_. 

I meet his eyes in the mirror. If the expression on his face wasn’t enough, his words certainly leave me with no hesitation.

Peeta’s still sitting up against the headboard when I reach the bed, so I climb onto his lap. As I’m settling across his legs, he smiles up at me, pulling my braid over my shoulder and unraveling it. Once my hair is loose, he smooths his hands down my back and over my hair before letting them come to rest at my waist. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, looking me over. I love the way he looks at me- as I’m some precious pearl that he plucked from the sea.

And then Peeta gently urges me closer to him, lightly kissing my jaw and down my neck, while I run my fingers through his hair before resting my cheek against his soft waves. I’m hyper-aware that what we’re doing feels entirely different from last night, like the urgency is gone and all that’s left is want and, for lack of a better word, romance.

He moves back up to my mouth from where he'd been hovering around the base of my neck. He gently rolls us over until I’m on my back, and he’s hovering over me. “Aren’t you going to turn out the lights?” I ask, feeling warm and comfortable beneath him as he reaches behind his back to pull his t-shirt over his head. We both laugh when he loses his balance and falls on top of me a little. 

“Nope,” Peeta tosses his shirt over his shoulder and onto the floor beside us. “I want to look at you.” 

And I guess he’s serious because he’s making his way down my body, running his lips across the curve of my bicep, the inside my elbow, and my wrist. He’s at my waist, tugging my underwear off my hips and pulling them down my legs before I know it.

I bite my lip, watching Peeta. Of course, I’m more than ready for this, but still, after my expectations last night, I feel like I should speak up. “You don’t have to do this all the time, you know,” I breathe out. “If you’re tired of it, I mean.”

He looks up at me; confusion etched in his expression, and it sort of makes me wish I’d kept my mouth shut. 

“Don’t you want me to?” Peeta asks. When I don’t answer right away, he grins, looking ridiculously handsome planted between my thighs. “You always seem to like it.”

“You know that I do,” I say, face heating beneath his knowing look.

“Then what’s the problem?” he asks.

I shrug, feeling awkward about the entire conversation.

“Katniss, I never get tired of it,” he goes on. “If what we did in here was just about me- I mean, I could just as easily jack myself off alone if all I was concerned with was getting off, you know?” 

He frowns up at me; I see the exact moment when understanding dawns on his face. 

“Wait. Is this about last night?”

“Possibly,” I admit. It seems ridiculous to worry about this sort of thing when we’ve been together for so long, but I can’t help my insecurities- they like to sneak in on me sometimes.

Peeta drops his head, resting his forehead against my navel. I can’t see his face, but his words vibrate against my skin, and it tickles. “Katniss, you know it’d been awhile-” 

“I know that-” 

“-but I was mostly afraid the kids were going to wake up,” he admits, looking up at me. 

That boyish grin of his spreads across his face, the same one that hasn’t changed since we were seventeen and first head over heels for each other; the feelings haven’t changed much in all that time- they’ve just grown deeper. 

“You know for a fact that I could spend all night with my face between your legs, babe.” His words, naughty as they are, have kind of the opposite effect. Instead of making me fixate on pleasure, I have the urge to kiss him senseless because yes, I know that he puts me above himself, always, and I hate it when I doubt that about him. 

“You’ve got to stop worrying about the kids,” I say instead, running my hand through his hair as he rests his cheek on my thigh.

“One of us has to worry about waking them up- you never seem to.” He quips cheekily.

“Oh my god, stop. I can’t help it that I enjoy myself,” I know my face is red now- for all the things I like doing with Peeta, I can hardly talk about them. “You know- some men would appreciate having a vocal partner.”

“I do- just not when I’m afraid my “partner” is going to wake _our_ kids up. Now,” he nods at my uncovered state, “can you keep quiet while I go to work?”

I roll my eyes at him, fighting a smile the whole time. 

It says something about how comfortable we are together that I’ve been naked for this conversation. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mellark,” I whisper.

He’s not flattering himself at all, and we both know that. 

Peeta raises his eyebrow at me, smirking in a way that makes my pulse race. “That sounds like a challenge,” he says, moving further down my body.

I’m staring up at the ceiling, my breathing already stilted in anticipation, when he uses the tip of his tongue to tease my slit open. I arch into him at the same time I hear him sigh. 

“Touch yourself?” Peeta asks, his hands going beneath my thighs to spread them further apart.

I cup my breasts, rubbing my palms across my nipples. Peeta likes this, and I do too- it took me a long time to get comfortable with the idea of touching myself in front of him, but I’m glad I did. He groans, the sound coming from low in the back of his throat, before diving into me in earnest.

And tonight, Peeta isn’t hesitant at all- using his lips, and fingers, and tongue, ringing orgasms from me that easily top each of my fantasies, until he has me hanging, feeling suspended in space. 

His hand presses lightly on my lower abdomen, right above my pelvic bone, as he works furiously to bring me to climax again. The pressure builds and builds- how he does this with the way my nerves are already raw and my body trembling, I don’t know- until, biting down on the heel of my hand to keep from crying out, I come again, powerfully. A rush of fluid erupts from within me; it runs between my thighs, my pulse throbbing in time to the quaking of my walls.

Peeta crawls up my body after shucking off his pants while I’m still lying on the mattress gasping for air. He rolls us over so that he’s on his back, and I’m on top of him. I’m half-lying across him, my legs over his thighs, when he bends his knees and cants his pelvis, lifting me at the same time to hover over him. Realizing what he wants, I grasp his cock at the base, lining it up with my opening. 

Peeta’s eyes close in bliss as I lower myself on him; I swear I feel every bump and ridge of his cock as he slides home. He opens his eyes again when I start to move, the noise of our coupling wet and slick-sounding. He trusts up, hitting that deep spot that feels like heaven in a haze of sin as I ride him. I cup my breasts again, pinching my nipples- giving him a show and stimulating myself as we work with each other.

Our pace is fast, and Peeta covers my mouth with the palm of his hand when I start to whimper, pressure building deep in my core again somehow- but how could it not in the middle of this wet, dirty fucking? 

His hips tilt up, and he roughly tugs me down on him. When Peeta’s cock jerks inside me in release the next moment, his throbbing triggers one last orgasm from me, and I clench around him while he grinds against me, his pelvic bone hitting my clit while the tip of his cock brushes that sweet, deep spot.

No one is thinking about hushing anyone else at that moment.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


When it’s over, and we’re lying side by side, catching our breath before getting up to clean off, Peeta takes my hand in his, threading our fingers together; it feels just as intimate as everything else we just did in this bed. 

“You know I’m never going to get tired of you, right?” he whispers. His expression is serious when I turn and look at him.

“I know,” I say before scooting closer, lightly kissing him. “You haven’t yet.”

He smiles.

“I love you, Peeta.”

“I love you too- forever, and always.”

It’d almost be sappy if every word he said weren’t the truth.

  
  
  
  
  


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**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I love to hear from you guys- don’t be afraid to drop me a line.


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